


Before the Storm

by Cali_se



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8470057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cali_se/pseuds/Cali_se
Summary: As he comes to terms with losing Win, Fred also begins to face up to his feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel/companion to the short ficlet [The Deluge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7495173)

Fred gladly accepted Endeavour's invitation to go back to his flat. Not wanting the kids to see him upset played a part, certainly, but he also had to admit it was because he knew damned well it would be too much of a wrench now to walk away alone. As they approached the front door, he felt a certain awkwardness creep in, unwanted, unbidden, but there nonetheless, as though he'd been caught out in his need to be near Endeavour.

The world had tilted. 

"Look, I can always get off home if you'd rather," he said, as Morse let them both in. "I'd hate to be in the way."

"I won't hear of it. You're staying here. Now sit down while I get you a drink."

"Those your orders, Morse?"

"Absolutely."

"No booze though, eh? Won't help. A cuppa'll do very nicely though. Thanks."

"Very sensible. I'll join you. Please... make yourself at home."

Fred leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, listening to the mundane, cosy sounds: the clink of teaspoons and crockery, water boiling and being poured out. It could almost be a normal day, a day like any other, except...

It wasn't.

"Sir." Fred opened his eyes to find Endeavour handing him his tea. 

"Thanks, Morse."

"How are you feeling? Any better? Sorry. That's an absurd question."

Fred shook his head. "Not at all. I'm feeling a little steadier, thanks. If you want to know the truth, Morse, it's the thought of the kids that sets me off more than anything. Breaks my heart to see them fretting about me the way they do. They've lost their mum and I-- I don't know what to say to 'em, what to do to make things right. I can't help thinking I should have more of a handle on things by now."

"It'll take time. Grief, it's... Well, it takes the time it needs, that's all." Endeavour shook his head, tugged at his ear the way he always did when he was uncertain. "I don't know. I'm pobably telling you things you already know."

"Not at all. You've been a great help, Morse, putting up with me these months. I know I've been a bugger to work with, and a miserable one at that."

Endeavour's answering smile was tinged with sadness, but there was affection and there was tenderness too, just as there had been earlier that night. Once again, Fred's feelings for Morse lurched in his belly. Fear and longing, what strange bedfellows! Fred had known the heat of those two things before, but never in such close proximity. And he saw a little fear in Endeavour's eyes too. Fear and longing and tenderness. Time ticked by on the mantle, marking minutes, moments, heart beats. 

"I want you to know how much I appreciate you coming to find me tonight," Fred said at last, "for taking the trouble."

"I'm certain you'd do the same for me."

"I would." Fred laid a hand on Endeavour's arm. "You're a good man, Morse, a good man. And I've been pushing you away. Couldn't bear to have you too near, y'see. And for that, I'm sorry." 

"It's all right. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"Yes, I do... Truth is, Morse, I couldn't imagine my life without you."

"Sir... Fred--"

"Have I said too much?"

"No. Not too much." 

When Endeavour leaned in, Fred did too. Both stopped, just shy of one another. When at last they kissed it was tentative: closed mouthed, shy, delicate. Fred's breath caught in his throat as they parted.

Endeavour spoke first, his voice not much more than a whisper. "If I've got it wrong... I-- I'd rather die than cause you more pain."

Overwhelmed, Fred couldn't find the words to answer; instead he took Endeavour in his arms and held him close, stroking his hair, kissing him, igniting yet another spark that could not be extinguished. He placed a hand at the back of Endeavour's neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. He'd imagined this so many times, during endless nights waiting in the dark for sleep to find him, and every time the guilt had stung him so badly he'd winced from the pain of it. But now? Was it all right - now? Was it all right to long for Endeavour, to ache with desire at the sight of him? Was it all right to want him? He'd been close to lads before: at school, during the war, as a copper; but it had never felt like this, never this deeply passionate connection, never this wild adoration. He'd never before been able to call it love. 

Morse pulled away from their kiss again, hesitating for only a moment before taking off his shirt. Fred watched, utterly caught up in the tiny movements of Endeavour's eyes, the contours of his face, the delicate dusting of freckles on his cheeks. 

They soon made the short move to the bed. It smelt of Endeavour, of his skin, his hair, the soap he used. They lay for a while in each other's arms, relishing the closeness. In a moment of sweet tenderness, Endeavour ran his fingers through Fred's hair, which had fallen out of its usual neatness, spilling stray locks across his forehead. Endeavour smiled as he did it, a smile that was both shy and brave all at once. 

"Can I touch you?" Fred asked. 

"Yes," Endeavour replied, reaching for him. 

Fred stayed his hand. "For you, Endeavour. I want this to be just for you."

Endeavour's body was slender and fair. Fred caressed its nakedness with an air of reverance, moving gently across soft skin, lingering now and then to kiss where his fingers had laid a trail, until his hand found its eventual resting place. He watched in awe as Endeavour closed his eyes, his long lashes resting against his skin like tiny fans, his lips parted on a sigh. Emboldened, Fred quickened his pace, hearing an answering moan in Morse's throat letting him know he was doing it right. Closing his free arm around Endeavour, he waited for those eyes to drift open. When they did, Fred caught them and kept hold. Endeavour looked back at him, his gaze hazy and lustful, and Fred fell for him, deep and hard, all over again. "That's it," he murmured. "That's it. I've got you. I've got you."

Endeavour buried himself in Fred's embrace as he neared his bliss. Then, with a sudden small cry, he came, his fingers clutching at Fred's shirt, his lips pressed against the fabric there. It felt to Fred like an act of trust, a mutual contract signed. Utterly transfixed, he held his lover close and waited for him to come back to himself, for his breathing to slow down and his fever to cool. 

They lay like that for a few moments. 

And then Endeavour broke the silence.

"I love you." It was a muffled declaration at first, barely audible against Fred's chest. And then Morse looked up, and chased and caught Fred's gaze. "I love you," he said again, and this time there was no doubt. "That's all right, isn't it?"

Fred allowed himself a small smile before the enormity of the situation turned somersaults in his belly. It had to be all right. It just had to be. Because he loved Endeavour Morse, loved the very bones of him, and nothing could change that fact. 

" _Forgive me_ ," he silently prayed, as he held Morse close and kissed his hair, allowing himself a little comfort and some calm before the storm.


End file.
